The bad in each other
by Bookjunk
Summary: Fitz has kept up with Clare's life from a safe distance. What happens when they meet again?
1. Strangers

**Chapter 1: Strangers**

Fitz had seen everything that Eli had put Clare through. To be fair, which he hated to be when it came to Eli, but still, he tried... To be fair, he had witnessed everything they had put _each other_ through.

From Eli's intensity scaring her, to Clare pulling away: Fitz knew it all. Their on-off-on again relationship had been unpleasant to watch, but in the beginning he had been unable to look away. It was like some sort of punishment. Like 'look what you did, that could have been you, but now it's him.' As if he'd ever stood a chance. If only one person felt a connection, then there was no connection. He knew that now. Anyway, he had watched.

Clare driving around with Eli. Clare talking to Adam. Clare shopping with Alli. Clare. Clare. Clare. He'd gone to bed thinking about her and woken up thinking about her. Sometimes, in between, he had dreamed about her too.

Until one day, while he was watching Clare have an argument with Eli, it hit him. He was becoming a stalker. So, he stopped. Stopped following her around, stopped wishing death on Eli. It wasn't the Christian way and Clare wouldn't appreciate it if she found out. That didn't change the fact that Fitz still wanted to punch Eli in his stupid fucking face.

See, he was no good at this. What would Jesus do and all that. Fitz was pretty sure that Jesus had never wanted to punch someone, even though he had clearly met plenty of people who had deserved it. Jesus didn't swear either. It was just hard to quit. It had become a habit.

He could do a lot of other things, though. He could stop tailing her. He could volunteer for community work. He could go to church – not hers, because he knew she would interpret his presence incorrectly. He could pray for Steve. He could confess that he used to call her house and hang up when one of her parents answered the phone. There were two things he couldn't do. He couldn't stop cursing and he couldn't stop missing Clare.

It was more than missing her, really. Fitz was concerned. As if he didn't have enough problems of his own to worry about. But he couldn't help picking up on what was happening in her life. He heard that her parents were divorced and that Eli had crashed his freak mobile. He heard about Jake. And of course, he kept hearing about their relationship. Eli screws up. They break up. Clare forgives him. They get back together. Always the same. 1234. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Just once Fitz wanted Clare to walk away. It wasn't even because he didn't like Eli. Eli wasn't the problem. It was the two of them. Together.

Fitz knew that it was in Clare's nature to see the good in everybody. It was what she had done with him. He knew how powerful that feeling was. To feel that somebody cared and believed in you. It had made him feel better than he had ever felt.

The problem was that when they were a couple, Eli and Clare brought out the worst in each other. Apart, they were both good people, but they weren't good _together_.

Why couldn't Clare see that? Every time someone told Fitz that Clare and Eli were an item again, he wanted to go find her and shake some sense into her. That wasn't an option, however. He hadn't seen Clare in a long time. If he saw her now, he'd have something completely different on his mind. He probably wouldn't be able to control himself.

Nothing he could say or do would matter, anyway. Because the thing that surprised him the most – even though it really shouldn't – was that Clare still loved Eli. It drove Fitz crazy. The thought of it was in his head 24/7. He practically sleepwalked through life worrying about that girl.

Which was why, in the grocery store, he didn't look as he steered the shopping cart into the last aisle. He was thinking about the latest news. Apparently, Clare and Eli were together again.

'Why don't you watch where you're going?' he snapped as he bumped into another cart. When he looked up, he encountered a pair of familiar blue eyes.

'Fitz?'

'Clare.'


	2. That's what I say, it's not what I mean

**Chapter 2: That's what I say, it's not what I mean**

'I usually don't come here,' Clare said. I know, that's why I come here, Fitz thought. Her gaze rested on her shoes for a second before settling on his face. It was obvious that she was nervous. Silently, he stared at her until she spoke again.

'But our regular store doesn't have this.'

She held up a jar of peanut putter. Why was she messing with his life? Why did she have to look so incredibly wholesome and kind? Why did she need a shopping cart for one jar? Those were a couple of the questions that occurred to Fitz while he stared at her. She continued her explanation.

'It has extra sugar. Darcy likes it a lot and since she's coming over for a few days, I thought...' Clare smiled uncertainly, before adding, 'You don't care about any of this, do you?'

'No.'

Feigning disinterest came easily to him, but this time it felt weird. He studied her. She looked about the same. More confident, maybe. Something in the way she stood. His indifference didn't even faze her; it was almost like she had expected it. She only nodded. As if it was a relief to have some more confirmation that he was a jerk. You're welcome, Fitz thought.

Status quo restored. Everything had returned to normal. They could go their separate ways now. There was just one problem: Clare didn't look like she planned to move. She leaned forward, balancing her forearms on the shopping cart.

'How have you been?' she asked. The question caught him off-guard.

'Great,' Fitz responded quickly, but it didn't come out as he had intended. He didn't quite hit the right tone. For some reason, he couldn't manage the scowl to go with it either. It was sarcasm with something underneath.

It was because she knew, of course. He had stupidly told her about his wasteland of a life and, Clare being Clare, she was actually concerned about his well-being. So much so, that she decided to forgo being polite for a change and pressed him for an honest answer.

'Really?' she said, cocking an eyebrow. He bit back a smile _and_ a sharp retort. Confused, Fitz blinked. She was still watching him. It made him feel uncomfortable. He looked away.

'I'm doing okay,' he muttered. He glanced at the security cameras. Next, he scanned the line of impatient customers by the register waiting for their turn to be helped. After that, he stared down at the contents of his cart, checking if he hadn't forgotten something. He didn't know who he was fooling, but it definitely wasn't himself. Clare exerted a pull on him that he simply couldn't resist. So, finally, when there was nothing left in the store for him to look at except her, he grimaced and focused on her.

She appeared at ease; busy reading the food label on the jar of peanut butter that she was buying for her sister. No one had ever gotten something especially for him. It made him wonder what that would feel like. It was a small thing, but significant.

The thought counted. Fitz might not get why Clare was talking to him, but he was sure that the thought behind it was nice too.

Sighing demonstratively, Fitz got her attention. And then, reluctantly and_ only_ because it was the thing you were supposed to, he asked her how she was. He cringed at how sincere he sounded. Clare suddenly looked kind of distracted.

'Fine,' she answered. Her voice was cheerful. Yet, he didn't buy it.

'Really?' he asked, imitating her sceptical expression. Clare smiled. Fitz smiled back, because how could he not? She did things to him. She made him want to do things to her. Like, right now, he wanted to say 'you have a lovely smile.' Lovely? He felt dumb just thinking it and he absolutely wasn't going to say it.

She was still smiling at him. His grin remained plastered on his face. The moment stretched out before them. Fitz wasn't very good with silences in general, but this one took the cake. He began to think that it was funny how the details never faded, but it wasn't. It wasn't funny. It was pathetic. What good did it do to know the precise colour of her eyes? So he could go, 'yeah, exactly like I remember' as he looked into them now?

The silence was too much. It provided too much time to discover all the little ways in which she had changed. To notice how beautiful she was. To imagine how it would feel to kiss her. The whole thing felt like a sick joke. Clare wasn't even that pretty. Not like Bianca. Bianca was hot.

Nonetheless, his fingers itched to reach out and touch her. Her wrist. Her throat. As long as it was some bare skin. It was frustrating to be so close to her and not be able to touch her. In order to restrain himself, he kept up a steady litany of internalised insults. Plenty of horrible stuff to choose from.

You blackmailed her into going out with you. You told her to shut up. You called her a bitch. You scared her. You're not good enough for her. You're not good enough.

'Fitz? Are you alright?' she asked. He pretended not to hear her, which was a big mistake. Gently, she tapped his shoulder.

'Leave me the fuck alone!'

Fitz immediately regretted the outburst, but he didn't take it back. Instead, he clenched his jaw. People's heads turned. Disapproving looks and outraged whispers were directed towards them. He didn't register any of it as he glared at Clare.

Her smile faltered. Her lips started to tremble. Embarrassed, she avoided the hostile glances of the other shoppers as she walked out of the store. She left her cart behind.

(***)

Author's note: The story title and chapter titles are songs by Feist. Also, I always like to hear what you think of the story, so review and tell me.


	3. So sorry

**Chapter 3: So sorry**

Back home, Fitz handed his mother the groceries. She thanked him and tried to give him a kiss, which he handily dodged by hiding behind the fridge. The back door slammed shut. Fitz tensed as his oldest stepbrother entered the kitchen.

'I'm gonna go see a friend,' Fitz mumbled.

'Didn't know you had those,' Steve sneered. Fitz ignored him and left. The wind was pretty fierce, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets. At the corner of the street, he paused. He could either go to the internet cafe or he could try to fix this thing with Clare. Left or right. He knew what Father Greg would say.

Groaning, Fitz turned right. This is not a good idea, he thought, but he kept walking. On his way over, he stopped by the store. Making amends was important. Plus, he was only going to apologise. That was all. I won't even go inside, he told himself.

It started to drizzle when he walked up to Clare's house and knocked. No one answered. Fitz considered leaving, but he wanted to get this over with. The sooner, the better. He waited a few seconds before knocking again. Still no one answered. When Clare finally opened the door, he was just about to go.

'It sure is hard to leave you alone. You do know that you don't live here?'

She sounded tired and pissed off. Serves me right, I guess, Fitz thought. The rain really kicked in now, but she made a face that told him that she wasn't going to let him in this time. Not after what had happened last time. That was fine by him.

'Funny. Got more?'

It wasn't what he had meant to say. Apologise. Leave. That was the plan. Not even one minute in and already he was screwing it up.

'As a matter of fact, I do. How's our spiritual connection? I would say; nonexistent.'

That one stung. He visibly winced. Clare seemed to realise that it had been cruel, but before she could say anything, Fitz thrust the peanut butter at her. Hesitantly, she accepted it.

'Listen, I came here to apologise,' he snapped.

She put the jar away; somewhere out of his sight. Unimpressed, she crossed her arms.

'Go ahead.'

'You didn't bother me at the store. I was just being a jerk.'

'Go on. What else?'

'I'm a jackass?' She nodded her approval, so he continued. 'And a douche bag? A dick?'

'That's enough. Apology accepted.'

Her mouth curled into a smile, but her eyes didn't join in. Involuntarily, he shivered. She sighed.

'What is it with you and showing up on my doorstep when it's raining?'

It wasn't a real question. Fitz knew that. It was one of those rheto-something questions that you shouldn't answer or that answered itself or whatever. His mother was always using them if she was worried about him. _What are we going to do with you, Mark? _And then she'd sigh too.

'Do you want to come inside?' Clare suggested, reluctantly. She wrapped her vest tighter around her and Fitz realised that she must also be cold. That was his cue to go.

'No.'

'I'll make tea,' she offered. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought that she was flirting. She wasn't, of course. No matter how tempting her invitation sounded, she didn't really want him inside her house and he didn't want to be there either. He didn't need her pity.

'Don't be silly. You'll get sick,' Clare pointed out, stepping aside to allow him inside. Bossy. He kind of liked this side of her, but still he refused.

'This is ridiculous.'

Exasperated, she grabbed his sweater and pulled him inside. As she closed the door behind him, he swallowed.

'Hand it over.'

She held out her hand. For a second, Fitz didn't understand what she meant until he saw her looking at his sweater. The front wasn't that bad; just a few wet patches. The back and the sleeves, on the other hand, were soaked and clinging to his body. He shook his head.

'Give me your sweater,' she insisted.

'No, thanks.'

'Are you going to fight me on everything?' she inquired, pausing when something seemed to occur to her. She glanced up at him. Her voice was laced with concern. 'Your brother didn't hit you again, did he?'

'He's clean now,' Fitz explained. Rehab hadn't made Steve a nicer person: he was still a mean bastard. Fitz didn't say that. It was already bad enough that he was inside her house, telling her about his life, _again_. In an effort to make Clare forget about his crappy life, he winked at her.

'I've got nothing on underneath. I wouldn't wanna embarrass you or anything.'

'I think I can handle it,' Clare playfully said. She didn't even blush.

Tired of arguing, Fitz shrugged and took off his sweater. Her eyes lingered on his bare midriff a little longer than was strictly necessary – don't think that he didn't notice. She was probably checking him for bruises. Clare disappeared into the other room with his sweater.

How stupid was this? Now he was forced to stay, at least until his sweater was dry. Apologise. Leave. It didn't seem that hard, but leave it to Clare Edwards to complicate matters. Waiting for her return, he walked towards the other room.

'Hey, I really am sorry,' he repeated. It was easier to say without her looking at him. Fitz leaned against the doorframe, effectively blocking the doorway. He must have spaced out, because suddenly she was there. It caught him off guard. They stood uncomfortably close for a moment. He thought he detected a flash of fear in her eyes. Quickly, he stepped back and she kind of ducked around him.

'Oh, I'm over it. In fact, I was over it before you apologised. It was nice seeing you grovel, though,' she casually admitted. In her hands, she held a green cardigan, but they were both too busy pretending that nothing had happened that for the time being it went overlooked.

'You are?'

'What can I say? I'm Zen.'

'That's cool.'

They smiled at each other. Attempting to prevent another silence - during which he would no doubt destroy whatever sensitive truce had been established between them - he gestured towards the cardigan. Flustered, Clare seemed to remember it.

'Here. Wear this while yours dries,' she instructed while she handed it to him. It was just talking for the sake of talking, since it was pretty clear what it was for. Fitz put the cardigan on. It was a couple of sizes too big. Not that it mattered. It covered him up: purpose served.

Awkwardly, they stood around, avoiding each other's gaze.

'So... I should go,' he announced out of the blue. Clare nodded vaguely. Could this get any worse? Taking off his own sweater, wearing the new one, taking that one off again: it was like a bad play. Fitz made a move to remove the cardigan, fully prepared to flee her house half naked, but she stopped him.

'That's alright. You can keep it. It's just one of my father's old ones.'

The normal thing to do would be to wait for his sweater to dry, but he didn't think he'd be able to spend another moment in Clare's presence without kissing her. He shouldn't have come in the first place. He wanted to get out of there, like _right_ _now_.

'Thanks. Bye,' he mumbled and reached for the door.

'No,' she whispered. Fitz frowned and turned around. Her eyes were searching the room, restlessly jumping from one place to the next. She looked distraught.

'Stay,' she said. It sounded loud in the otherwise silent house. Clare smiled. Not directly at him, more at her shoes, and again the smile didn't reach her eyes.

'Okay.'

It was that simple. Of course, he wouldn't leave. Not if she didn't want him to. Not when it was obvious that something was wrong. She bit her bottom lip. Fitz waited for her to explain why she didn't want him to go, but she didn't. Slowly, she approached him.

It was as if there was nothing between them. Nothing he had done. Not the knife or Eli's face as he had slid to the floor. None of her justified feelings of mistrust.

Fitz kept his breathing shallow as she came closer and tried to pretend he didn't want her so much. The last few inches were the hardest. He didn't breathe at all during those. He felt her warmth radiating towards him. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her father's cardigan.

She had this way of tilting her head, like she was looking at you over her glasses, even though she had gotten rid of them a long time ago. He tried to focus on that when their bodies touched. He didn't lunge. He didn't lean in. He didn't move.

Her teeth grazed his lips. She stood on her toes, softly kissing him. The pressure built inside of him. She buried her fingers in his hair. His hands shook. Not just a slight tremble, no, they shook violently. Still, he held back.

'You don't want to?' she asked. Fitz smirked. He had never wanted anything more.


	4. Get it wrong, get it right

**Chapter 4: Get it wrong, get it right**

Clare gasped as Fitz pushed her towards the door. Immediately, he eased up, but Clare wasn't having that. She twisted her fingers in the fabric of the cardigan and crashed her mouth against his.

It was different than he had imagined it. Clare was much more assertive than he had expected. Almost aggressive. It was a real turn on. So, why was Eli the first thing that popped into his mind?

Okay, so Clare was cheating on Eli and he was helping her and that was wrong. Fitz had never cared about that before and he wasn't going to start now. He had to admit that this line of thinking wasn't very Christian, but he couldn't give a shit. Clare was kissing him and he wasn't going to put an end to it just because of some misplaced guilt about emo boy. Maybe they weren't even together; maybe he had misheard.

She moaned as he licked a hot strip along her jaw line. Fitz smiled and pressed a kiss behind her ear. Leaning her head back, she sighed. He could have sworn she exposed her neck to him on purpose. Taking his time, he alternated between kissing and applying his teeth. He liked how he could see the pale skin of her throat flush under his lips.

Her hands slid under his sweater and crept up his chest. Whoa, she's really into this, Fitz thought. Following her example, he lifted her vest a few inches. It didn't take long for his experienced fingers to slip around her waist and pull her closer. She felt warm.

The urge to bruise her was strong. It would be a reminder of this moment. Something to show everyone that Clare wasn't Eli's; that she was her own woman. But it wouldn't be right. It would be like marking her as his, when she wasn't.

Frustrated in his desire, Fitz moved his hands over her back, tracing the nubs of her spine. Clare's body throbbed under his touch. He bit her ear, softly sliding his teeth down the tender lobe. Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.

Their breaths came hard and fast. Fitz guided Clare further back, grabbed her hips and hoisted her up a little. To say that it came as a surprise that she allowed him to step in between her legs was putting it mildly. When she wrapped her legs around his middle, Fitz almost thanked her. This Clare, who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, was so hot.

He pressed her against the door and kissed her again. She was all pulse and heat and want. Lust overwhelmed him. As he slipped his tongue into her mouth, he forgot to be gentle. His fingers dug into her flesh without him noticing. Clare shivered and stopped responding to his kisses. She simply froze. With difficulty, Fitz slowed down and pulled away. He was afraid that he'd hurt her.

That wasn't it, because she smiled and took his hand. Then she pulled him towards the stairs. Or rather, she tried. Fitz hesitated. It was clear what she meant to happen. It was also clear that something was off. The new demanding Clare had been fun, but this was a whole other Clare. A stranger, because the Clare Fitz knew would never sleep with someone before she was married. And they weren't dating; they weren't even friends. They weren't anything to each other as far as she was concerned. Something was wrong.

Clare tugged on his hand again with a pleading look in her eyes. It killed him that he had to do this. This whole being a good person was proving to be such a pain in the ass. Honestly, it sucked.

'Clare?'

The question that wasn't really a question visibly shook her. She cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. He caught her wrists to prevent that from happening.

'Clare? What's wrong?'

She didn't say anything. She just started to cry. That wasn't the reaction he had expected. He released her wrists. She slumped against him. Fitz didn't think he had ever felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. Providing emotional support wasn't exactly his strong suit, though he did manage to sort of hold her up.

The crying went on for a couple of minutes that felt more like hours. Somewhere along the way keeping Clare on her feet turned into a hug. That was strangely fine by Fitz. He might even have murmured a few borderline comforting things into her hair, like 'there, there' or 'it's gonna be alright' or something equally stupid.

As it was, standing there with her in his arms, Fitz was amazed to discover that it felt kind of nice. He wouldn't have minded if it had lasted a little longer.

'I'm sorry,' she blubbered, eventually, and Fitz had to let go. Her face was streaked with tears. Embarrassed, Clare turned away and wandered over to the couch.

'It's just... I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing. Eli...'

She paused and Fitz searched the room for a distraction. Anything to get her to shut up about Eli. There was a new picture in the bookcase that hadn't been there before. Clare, her mother, a man who was probably her stepfather and a guy who looked remarkably like Fitz. Pretending to be confused, he picked up the frame and showed it to Clare.

'Why is there a photo of me in your living room?' Fitz joked. She smiled through her tears.

'That's Jake. His father married my mother. I dated him.'

'And I thought my family was messed up.'

Clare burst out laughing, startling both of them. Quickly, she clamped her hand over her mouth. When she had regained control over her emotions, she looked into his eyes.

'Everything's just... weird, at the moment. I'm sorry that I took it out on you,' she said.

'Hey, don't apologise for kissing me,' Fitz protested. That brought another smile to her face and made him want to kiss her again.

'You aren't still...' she shyly asked.

'Clare, you're awesome. Of course I'm still in love with you,' he admitted. It felt great to say. When she looked away, it suddenly felt a lot less great. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. Fuck, she was cute. Before Clare could say anything, Fitz reassured her.

'That's alright. I don't expect you to feel the same. Not after everything I did.'

This time when he left, Clare didn't try to stop him. Because they both remembered all the things _he_ had put her through. Turning Clare into a girl who cheats on her boyfriend could be added to the list. Obviously, Eli wasn't the only one who brought out the bad in Clare.


	5. The reminder

**Chapter 5: The reminder**

Clare could still taste him. Fitz lingered on her lips and in her mouth long after she drank a soda to get rid of the taste. He tasted nothing like Eli. Fitz was clearly a smoker. Kissing him should have been disgusting, akin to kissing an ashtray, but it had felt more like kissing fire. Hot and dangerous. The thought made her flush. This wasn't like her at all and she knew it.

Yes, things with Eli were a little tense right now. That was no reason to go around kissing random people. People she was attracted to, but who were most definitely not boyfriend material. At least, Clare encountered some difficulty when she attempted to picture Fitz in that role. And why would she even want to? Why was she thinking about this? They were like a circle and a line: incompatible.

Shaking her head, she went to her room, receiving unwanted images of trying to drag Fitz upstairs with every step.

(***)

It wasn't until the following morning that she saw the bruise. Above her hipbone; a thumb-shaped discoloration. She studied it. It just peeked out over the waistband of her jeans. She remembered when it had happened. Pressed against the door, at Fitz's mercy, his eyes clouded over with lust. When she looked in the mirror, she discovered that she was almost smiling. Clare frowned at herself with all the disapproval she could muster.

At school, her fingers kept brushing over the bruise. Sometimes she was barely conscious of doing it. Probing it, trying to relive the moment it had been created. She was blushing practically nonstop, because she was thinking about it constantly.

Eli was the first one who noticed that she was preoccupied. By then the bruise was already fading. It was tinged mostly green with a dash of purple. It should have been an ugly mark of violence, but instead it was proof of how much Fitz had wanted her. That was what was so amazing about it. He had wanted her so much that he hadn't been able to control himself.

'Huh?' Clare managed to say. She hadn't been paying attention, again, to what Eli was saying.

'I was asking you... Never mind. What were you thinking of?' he asked. He smiled. It made her feel horrible. Well, she was a horrible person. She was a cheater. She'd rather not be a liar too, so perhaps honesty was best. While she tried to formulate an answer, she got up. Her shirt rode up. Only an inch, but it was enough. Stupid tricky cotton. Eli glanced at her. She pulled her shirt down, but it was too late. It was as if it all happened in slow motion and then time ground to a halt.

'Clare, what's that? Did someone hurt you?'

It was the perfect opportunity to tell him about Fitz and the kiss, but her courage failed her.

'No. No, I just bumped into the kitchen table at home. Clumsy,' she laughed. She sounded so disingenuous. It was cringe inducing. Nauseating, really. Great. Now she was also a liar. Eli frowned; probably confused by her behaviour.

'You should be careful, 'cause I kind of like you, you know,' he said, as if confessing a secret. Slyly, he looked down and up at her, winking, fluttering his eyelashes. He kissed her and pulled away. It took less than a heartbeat. All she was left with was the impression of Eli's trusting eyes and a guilty conscience for thinking of a different pair of eyes.

(***)

'I kissed Fitz,' Clare blurted out. For one agonising minute, Alli's face registered nothing. It was disconcerting, because this was Alli. She always had a quick comeback or a witty remark at the ready. So, the fact that Clare had managed to stun her, of all people, into silence was not exactly a promising sign. Then, finally, Alli leaned closer.

'As in, the guy who threatened Eli with a knife? That Fitz?' she whispered. Alli could have added quite a few other things – bullying, blackmailing, his arrest, and the creepy e-mails - but this was the most damning.

'Yes,' Clare whispered back, ashamed. Alli opened her mouth and closed it. She wrinkled her nose. She continued to look perplexed some more.

'I don't know what to say. _Why_?'

Clare couldn't answer that. Quietly, she told Alli everything. Alli simply listened, until Clare got to the part where she lied to Eli about the bruise.

'There's a love mark? Let's see it,' Alli demanded. Clare glared at her.

'Hey, I need evidence,' Alli said, grinning. That was understandable. Clare could hardly believe the kiss was real and she had been there. Quickly, after making sure that no one else was looking, she lifted her shirt.

'Whoa,' Alli breathed. Lowering her shirt, Clare nodded. Her friend nodded too and smoothed her dark hair back. Clare smiled, recognising what her friend was doing. Alli was composing herself, returning to the rational realm, thinking of advice that would be useful.

'Okay... I've got a pretty good idea about why you didn't tell Eli. When it comes to Fitz, he tends to get a little worked up. Maybe you're afraid of what he will do once he knows?' she suggested. Clare denied it; even though she had to admit to herself that she was a bit worried about how Eli would react. Not that she feared for Fitz's safety or anything. Eli was on his meds and doing well. Still, there was something holding her back from telling the truth. Something else.

(***)

'Strange,' Clare's mother mumbled, coming down the stairs. Curious, Clare looked up from the book she was reading.

'I thought this was Jake's, but he says it isn't. Now, I _know_ it isn't Glen's,' her mother mused, turning over the sweater in her hands. Clare's breath hitched in her throat. Her mother was holding Fitz's sweater.

'It's from... a friend of mine,' Clare stammered, jumping up from the couch. Strictly speaking, that was not a lie. Not entirely. She would seek atonement later. How could I have forgotten about the sweater, she thought. That was an easy question: because of the kiss.

'I'd better get it back to him. I'll go do that right now,' she offered, as if doing her mother a favour. Before her mother could protest, Clare was out the door. She didn't get far before realising that she had absolutely no idea where Fitz was. She didn't know where he lived, where he went to school. She didn't even know if he still went to school.

There was one thing she knew, though: Father Greg's phone number. Maybe he would know where Fitz was. Clare looked up the number amongst her contacts. Why had she saved it? Had she half-hoped for the day when Fitz would show up on her doorstep again? Nonsense. She had merely saved it in case of future moral dilemmas - moral dilemmas in no way related to Fitz - thinking that it might be nice to talk to someone who didn't stare down at her from the pulpit every Sunday.

Luckily, Father Greg remembered her and he told her where she could find Fitz. Of course, it had to be a church and Fitz was doing community work. Suddenly, she was the sinner and he was the saint. It would have been funny, if it hadn't been so ridiculous. Her insides were twisted into knots by the time she got there. Clare licked her lips and wringed her hands and reminded herself that she was really only returning a sweater.

'Fitz?' she called out. The afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting dizzying figures on the benches and floor. He appeared from out of the shadows, startling her. Clare told herself that there was no reason to be nervous, yet she was. The fact that Fitz chose to stand in the middle of a pillar of light didn't help. He did it on purpose; she was sure of it, but nonetheless the effect was striking.

His hair shone. His face was pale, covered with tiny freckles. Dust motes swirled around him. Spreading his arms, he smirked, effectively breaking the illusion, and stepped out of the dancing sunlight. Before Clare had rounded the bench that separated them, he had already slipped into another row. She smiled. What did he think was going to happen? She wasn't going to attempt anything. Not here. She corrected herself. She wasn't going to attempt anything anywhere.

'Your sweater,' she explained, lamely. He accepted it, but remained one row removed. A bench between them at all times. The air between them hummed and crackled with tension. Clare reached out and caught his arm. She could almost feel it again. His hands on her hips, his lips against her throat. She _wanted _to feel it again, but Fitz jerked away.

'Wrong place?' she inquired. It was an actual question. She wasn't trying to flirt, even if it came out on the wrong side of coy.

'Are you still with Eli?'

His voice was so soft that it was barely there. Reverent, hushed. More like a sigh than a whisper. Clare nodded, wishing she didn't have to.

'Wrong person,' he said. For a second, she thought it was a sneer at Eli, until she realised that Fitz meant himself. She shouldn't be trying to kiss him, because she was with Eli. Because Fitz was the wrong person to want to kiss. Was he, though? When she thought about kissing anyone, she thought about kissing him. And when she kissed Eli, she tasted Fitz. Smoky and hot.


	6. 1234

**Chapter 6: 1234**

_Wrong person._

Clare kept going over those two words in her mind. For some reason, it remained difficult to work out who was the wrong person and what was wrong. She was with Eli, so she shouldn't want to kiss Fitz. Thus, wanting to kiss Fitz was wrong. Or... if she wanted to kiss Fitz, she shouldn't be with Eli. This would mean that being with Eli was wrong.

She almost got lost on the way home from the church, simply because she felt so distraught. Why did she want to kiss Fitz? Rationally, it made no sense.

The worst thing was that it wasn't the kiss. It was about the inexplicable feelings before, during and after the kiss. When she ran into him in the store, she had been glad. Yes, glad. Clare was aware that emotionally she was all over the place lately, but they hadn't exactly parted on friendly terms. So, why the pleasant quickening of her pulse when she had seen Fitz?

Her phone rang. The sound and vibration startled her. It was her mother.

'Clare? Eli is here. He says you two have a date and he is supposed to pick you up. Where are you?'

'I'm... I'm almost there. Thanks for calling. See you in a couple of minutes.'

And she was feeling guilty again. This was such an awesome cycle of doing something stupid and subsequently feeling guilty. Clare started to walk a little faster until she was almost running. She needed to tell Eli. Then she would know what to do. She burst into the house, scaring her mother and Eli in the process.

Upon seeing her face, Eli asked what was wrong. He sounded just like Fitz. The same kind of hushed concern. I am, Clare wanted to say. I am wrong. She would have said it too, if her mother hadn't been listening a little too intently. Instead, Clare forced her lips into a weak smile.

'Can we talk?'

'Yes, of course.'

'In my room,' Clare said. There was a feeling of dread in her stomach, as if a small animal had curled up to die there. Her feet were heavy and her legs tired as she ascended the stairs. Eli followed quietly. She closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed. He sat down next to her. Looking at her shoes, she took a breath and said it.

'I kissed Fitz.'

Words. She knew how powerful words were. On the page. Out in the open. They could make or break relationships. Still, she hadn't quite anticipated the reaction she got from Eli.

'Fitz,' he spat out. That seemed to be the only word he had heard. Or the only one he had wanted to hear. Agitated, Eli jumped up and started to pace. He folded and unfolded his hands.

'What did he do?' Eli demanded.

'He didn't do anything. I was the one who kissed him. It was a spur of the moment thing.'

Liar, she thought.

'I kissed him. It was... He has changed,' she tried to explain. Eli looked mad. That was what she had expected. His anger was firmly directed at Fitz, though. The claim that Fitz had changed seemed to bother him more than the kiss.

'_You_ have changed, Eli. Why is it so difficult to accept that he might have changed too? I kissed Fitz; not the other way around.'

Now she was beginning to feel angry too. She was not a pawn. No one had manipulated her into doing something she didn't want to do. She knew what she wanted. With a jolt, she realised that this was truer than she'd bargained for. Clare knew what she wanted. And it wasn't Eli. Abruptly, he stopped pacing.

'You kissed Fitz?' he asked. He sat down on the bed again, a little further away than before. Studied her features. Her eyes. Her mouth. Unfolded his hands in his lap. Slowly. Clare read it as a gesture of surrender. Or perhaps it indicated his inability to understand. Either way, there was no anger in his hands anymore.

'Why?' he whispered with dry lips.

'I don't know why,' she admitted, adding a tentative, 'I'm sorry.'

'I forgive you,' Eli said, after a while. She couldn't help it: she stiffened. Eli immediately picked up on it.

'Not what you wanted, I guess?'

Clare couldn't look him in the eye, because he was staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. Literally, as if he didn't know her. That hurt, but it was fair. Because who was this person who was breaking up with Eli?

How could she even do this? Eli knew her inside out and he loved her so much. How could she throw that away after one kiss? How could she throw that away for Fitz of all people? Yet, she was doing it.

'So... Fitz, huh?' Eli said. He sounded so sad. She preferred him angry.

'No, that's fine. I'm fine. I will be fine. You didn't mean to. I know that. But it happened. And I forgive you.'

'Eli...'

They both stood up simultaneously and glanced at each other. She thought of reaching out to touch... what? His cheek, maybe. She even started the motion, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Her hand was left dangling in the space between them. Stupid and useless. Embarrassed, she took it back and used it to straighten her shirt.

He smiled at her in a horrible 'I'm OK, you're OK' sort of way, except he was clearly in pain. His voice was hoarse when he said goodbye. Clare didn't have it in her to speak. All she could do was slump down on the bed. There was something funny going on with her breathing. When she heard the door downstairs close, she realised that it was because she was on the verge of tears.

Thinking that she had no right to grief, she fought off the desire to cry until she was out of breath.

(***)

It took her a few days before she had recovered enough to try and speak to Fitz. Even now she was still afraid that she'd made a mistake. Alli certainly thought so. Adam probably agreed with her; assuming that Eli had told him.

Luckily, Clare soon found something else to worry about. Fitz was nowhere to be found. Father Greg hadn't seen him. In fact, he confided in her that Fitz's mother didn't know where her son was either. No one seemed to have seen Fitz since Clare had visited him in the church.

Something might have happened to him. His brother might have assaulted him again. He might have done anything illegal, criminal. It occurred to Clare that she really didn't know Fitz at all. This guy for whom she had given up Eli was a stranger.

In the middle of the night, Clare sat at her laptop and opened a new email. She stared at the blank screen. This form of communication didn't really lend itself to real contact. She was just about to log out when she had an idea. When he had semi-cyber stalked her, Fitz had mentioned an internet cafe. He could be there. There weren't that many internet cafes in the vicinity.

(***)

She saw him long before he noticed her. When he became aware of her presence, he didn't exactly jump for joy. Furious, he hauled her outside.

'What the fuck are you doing here, Clare?'

His face was twisted into a vicious sneer. It couldn't hide the fact that he was tired. His clothes looked slept in. Despite his venomous words, it was still there: naked desire. It sent a jolt through Clare. Had she traded love for desire? Did she care?

'I was worried about you,' she confessed.

'What I do has nothing to do with you, so why do you care? Why do you care so much?' he scoffed.

'I broke up with Eli.'

That brought him up short. He stared at her and, after a pause, asked her why. Suddenly, Clare felt confident. Confident enough to place one hand on his shoulder and another one on the back of his neck to bring him closer. She kissed him and, God, if that wasn't the best feeling ever.

Fitz responded to the kiss with a restraint she envied. He wrapped his long arms loosely around her. His mouth demanded only what she was willing to give. She felt the strength in his hands, the hunger inside him, but he stayed in control.

They might not really know each other, but he knew her body. He moved his hips against hers in a way that made Clare close her eyes and moan. She leaned into him, until there was no further to lean. His chest was hard and soft at the same time. So shallow, so superficial, but Clare liked the solid muscle she could feel beneath his skin. She felt like cursing when they broke apart; he actually did.

'Shit. It's late. I don't want to get you into trouble.'

She smiled. It was an incredulous smile. He saw it and shrugged.

'Yeah, really. Come on. I'll walk you home,' he offered. That was another surprise. Apparently, Fitz was thoughtful. It was unexpected and much appreciated. Neither of them spoke on the way home. Clare wanted to ruffle his hair or hold hands, but she couldn't bring herself to do any of these things. She kept flashing back to the look in Eli's eyes when she'd tried to touch him.

Fitz stopped in front of her house. He swallowed audibly and scratched his neck. Ducking his head, so she couldn't see his eyes, he awkwardly asked her out. When she had agreed to go on a date with him, he looked at her directly.

'It can't be like it was with Eli,' he announced.

'What do you mean?'

'Remember what happened before we first kissed? And what happened this time? I was a jerk. I don't wanna be that guy.'

'What guy? I don't know what you're talking about.'

'The guy who treats his girlfriend like crap. And you can't be the one who lets me do that.'

She laughed, because it was so ridiculous, but she soon ceased laughing. Fitz was serious. That is what he thinks my relationship with Eli was like, she realised. And he wants to get this right, because he thinks it's important. He thinks I'm important. Shaking her head, Clare chuckled.

'Fitz, I practically threw myself at you and you were a perfect gentleman about it. I don't think you're in any danger of becoming_ that_ guy,' she told him.

'You think so?' he asked, sounding unsure.

'Yes, I do,' she said. He still seemed unconvinced, so she added, 'And on the off chance that you do, I won't let you get away with it.'


End file.
